Sad Savior
by The Inbetweener
Summary: Harry is having a tough time dealing with the upcoming war. Dumbledore has left him with little to nothing to hunt down the horcruxes and Harry is pushing everyone away. Hermione, though, is determined to stop Harry's isolating behavior and show him that she'll always be there for him.


**A/N: **Hey EVERYONE! Bee here! Just wanted to say thank you for reading! I know it's been a long time since I uploaded anything and it took me years to produce just this little one shot song fic. So thanks for the support and the reads! Also give me a review, will ya? Cuz like i said it's been forever and I'd like to know if I've lost my touch. Also let me know if you want to hear more of this story. i originally planned it to be a long one shot but the ending I left open because I've been thinking about turning it into a long fic. Let me know what you think, ok? Love yas!

-BEE

**Skin against skin covering bone  
>Oh, the body you're in is aggressively slim<br>Yeah, you've earned the clothes you put on it,  
>Cover up where you've been<strong>

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat dumbfounded as Scrimgeour stormed from the Weasley's sitting room. Slowly, Ron grinned at Harry as if he couldn't believe that Harry had the balls to stand up to the Minister of Magic as he had. Hermione, however, looked thoughtfully concerned at Harry's behavior. While Hermione agreed with every word Harry had said, she wasn't sure if deliberately making an enemy of Scrimgeour was a smart idea. They didn't need another powerful entity against them. She was also worried about Harry himself. How much more could he handle before he blew up on them all again? And more importantly, what kind of ideas had Scrimgeour put in his head?

Harry ignored the pair and held up the snitch Dumbledore had left him, thinking hard about what just happened. Dumbledore had left Harry that sword for a reason but he couldn't fathom why. And why Scrimgeour had thought that it meant something important, well that was beyond Harry's knowledge too. But the snitch… the snitch…. Harry could guess why that was important.

"You guys remember how I caught my first snitch?" Harry asked calmly, eyes still on the golden ball of mystery captured in his hand. Hermione's eyes grew as round as saucers and she silently gasped in understanding.

"Yea, you almost swallowed it whole. But what does that have to—oh." Ron trailed off as he realized the importance of the question.

"Of course! _Flesh memories_! That's why Scrimgeour expected something to happen when you touched it. I thought so too but I forgot you caught it in your mouth!" Hermione whispered excitedly.

"Exactly," Harry agreed before pulling the snitch up to his mouth. With one last excited breath, Harry touched the golden snitch up to his lips in the faintest of kisses, as if greeting an old friend with a peck on the cheek. Harry removed the snitch from his lips and waited with baited breath. After a few seconds, Harry's heart dropped. Nothing had happened and the snitch remained unchanged. Then, just as Harry had given up hope, Hermione gasped again, and a thin familiar script appeared on the snitch.

_I open at the close_

"'I open at the close'? What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked. Again, Harry's heart dropped and a bitter taste filled his mouth and prickled at the back of his throat. Disappointment welled in him, making his stomach heavy as if he had swallowed an anchor. A mystery within a mystery, it was just what Harry needed, another puzzle to solve. Angrily, Harry opened the pouch that Hagrid had given him and shoved the snitch inside. He closed up the pouch and glared at the small coffee table as if it was Dumbledore himself.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered, placing her hand comfortingly on Harry's knee. "Harry come on, let's go outside. They're waiting for us." She squeezed his knee reassuringly and Harry looked up at his best friends. Hermione was still sitting next to him on his left, concern etched deep in her face. Ron had stood up and was looking nervously at Harry, expecting another giant blow up. Harry had that look on his face again. Harry smiled weakly at his friends and stood up, his anger dissipating into a dull buzz. Ron let out a breath of relief and clapped Harry on the back.

"I thought you were going to explode there for a second, mate." Ron told him.

"For a second there, I was," Harry answered, still smiling. Ron shook his head and left the room, eager to join the party again. Hermione remained sitting and had watched the entire interaction with interest. Harry had pretended that he was alright but she could see the truth behind his brilliant green eyes. He was still fuming at Dumbledore, and Hermione deduced that he was feeling more alone than ever. The man he looked up to most was letting him down and she felt pain for her closest friend as he suffered from the fall. There was a sadness in Harry's eyes now, one that hadn't been there before Dumbledore's death. Or even after. It had appeared when Harry realized how little Dumbledore had actually told him, how little he was prepared without Dumbledore's guidance.

Harry turned to Hermione and held out a hand to her. Hermione took it and he helped pull her up from the small sofa. When he let go, Hermione stumbled and almost fell backwards. Harry caught her around the waist and pulled her back up so that she could catch her balance. He had pulled her close and Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. Her mouth just about reached his shoulder and her lips were so close to his shoulder that Hermione could feel the warmth of her breath bounce back at her.

"Harry," her throat was dry and her voice cracked a little.

"Hmm?" Harry answered hand still around her waist. He was reluctant to talk or to move. Hermione's warmth had completely dissolved his bitterness and had scattered his thoughts. The only thing he could think of was the intoxicatingly sweet scent that was Hermione, apples with a small hint of minty soap.

"It'll be okay. We'll take that bastard down. We'll make him pay for everything and get rid of him for good," Hermione whispered. Harry enveloped her in a tight hug, burying his face in her long curly hair and inhaling her scent deeply. Hermione hugged him back and realized just how skinny her best friend had become in only a few short weeks. His baggy clothes had hid it well but now worry bubbled in Hermione's throat. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes but she managed to hold them back. He wasn't eating, not properly anyway. She felt like a horrible friend for not noticing before. She pulled away and he stepped back to give her some room.

"Come on," she sniffed a little and chuckled at her silliness, "Let's go eat. You need it, Skinny," she teased before taking his hand and walking out of the sitting room and into the garden.

**Leave those scars at home  
>Let them slide down the length<br>Of your spine, cross your knees  
>And down to your feet<br>They slow our momentum each time  
>You're reminded they're there...<strong>

Hermione watched Harry the rest of the evening. Sometimes, he would catch her eyes and smile at her in amusement. She blushed every time it happened and looked away from those dancing green eyes. He knew that she was worried about him and understood her concern, but she still felt embarrassed when she was caught. The thought that she cared enough to keep an eye on him, made Harry happy to have such good friends. It lifted his spirits drastically and he enjoyed his seventeenth birthday dinner immensely. Molly, Hermione was glad to see, had also noticed how skinny Harry was and made him eat third helpings of almost everything. When Hermione beamed at her as she filled Harry's plate, Molly winked at Hermione before returning to her task of making Harry eat as much as humanly possible.

It was a splendid celebration and when it ended Harry couldn't help but feel disappointed. The next day was Bill and Fleur's wedding, which Harry would be attending well disguised, and then after that Harry would be leaving the Burrow, possibly for good. He was still trying to convince Ron and Hermione not to leave with him. He didn't want them to be put in danger because of him. He would never forgive himself if anything happened. He sat brooding over these unpleasant thoughts as he faked a smile and said goodnight to everyone as they left for the night or headed up to bed. At last it was only the trio and Molly Weasley remaining out under the stars. Molly, who was just waving her wand to finish cleaning up, stroked Harry's cheek fondly with her free hand as he sat in a lawn chair.

There was a lot of emotion put into that little gesture and Harry felt his stomach swell with guilt. This woman had done so much for him, had been the mother he'd never had. She had taken him in, clothed him, fed him, guided him when he was lost and clueless, accepted him into her already large family. Her tender touch told him that she would do it all again in a heart-beat and that she loved him as Harry her son, not Harry the chosen one. He would be forever grateful to her as much as she coddled him and interfered. He knew she just did it because she loved him. There was also sadness in the touch. She knew he was leaving, and nothing she could do would stop him, though she had tried. He was a brave boy, and she would miss her two youngest sons and her oldest daughter as they did whatever Dumbledore had assigned to them.

She looked at Hermione and then Ron with a sad smile on her face.

"Well, I'll just be heading to bed, dears. I'll see you in the morning," with one last stroke of Harry's cheek she was gone, walking back towards the Burrow. Harry could've sworn that he heard her sniffle but he said nothing to the other two who hadn't noticed.

"Well I'm going to bed, mate. You coming?" Ron asked as he stifled a large yawn. Harry shook his head and Ron finally succumbed to his weariness, yawning loudly. "Alright, suit yourself. But don't whine when we have to get up early for the wedding. Knowing mum we'll be up at the crack of dawn to help set up." Harry chuckled and waved him on. Ron shrugged and headed for the comfort of his bed. Hermione remained seated next to Harry and sighed as she laid her head back. She had watched him and had realized that the sadness was once again present in his eyes. She refused to leave him alone with his thoughts. Doing so would make him feel even worse than he already felt. She was determined to get it out of him. They sat for a few moments, neither one wanting to break the silence that had settled uncomfortably around them. Finally, Hermione stood and held out her hand to Harry.

"Come on, let's go for a walk," Hermione demanded. Harry just shrugged and took her hand. She helped him up but didn't let go of his hand. Instead, she led him towards the low garden wall.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Harry told her as he slowed his steps with uncertainty. There could be Death Eaters all around the house, unable to get in but waiting for a glimpse of him.

"Relax," Hermione said, reading his thoughts. "They've warded the surrounding green. Hagrid's out there camping right now and they couldn't leave him unprotected." Harry let his eyes roam to the far off hill that Hagrid's large tent now occupied. The tent was barely more than a big black blob against the dark purple sky but it seemed to reassure Harry because he followed Hermione over the low brick wall and into a thicket of trees behind the Burrow. Hermione knew this thicket well, even in the dark. In safer times, she and Ginny would sneak out at night and go through the thicket to a nice, flowered clearing. They would sit up all night and talk as young girls usually talked. Hermione missed the place desperately. As times got harder and more dangerous, Hermione would sneak to the clearing by herself during the day and think and shout and generally let any of her tension go. She thought it would be a perfect place to talk to Harry.

Hermione squeezed his hand as she led him closer to her private clearing. Looking back at him, she could see the outline of his shoulders drooping with the heavy weight she was hoping to lift from him. She walked faster and soon they reached their destination. The clearing was lit brightly in the moonlight. The trees surrounding them were dense and ancient.

"So what do you think?" Hermione asked him. He looked at her for a moment and then continued to stare around him.

"It's brilliant," he admitted, still watching the trees.

"I hoped you would like it," Hermione blushed in the darkness and was surprised to find she spoke the truth. She hadn't realized just how much she wanted Harry to approve of her safe haven. It was silly to want his approval but she did anyway. She sat and crossed her legs so that she could sit up comfortably. Harry remained standing, looking into the darkness.

"What's on your mind, Harry?" Hermione whispered, fearful that he would shut down on her. Her eyes never left his as he tried to come up with an answer. She saw the lie in those liquid emerald pools before it even reached his lips.

"Nothing, I'm—"

"Fine," Hermione finished for him in a cold tone. "You're fine right, Harry?"

"Well, yea, I am," Harry said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. Hermione clambered to get up and walked to stand right in front of Harry. She glared at him and huffed angrily.

"Don't you _dare _lie to me, Harry James Potter!" She poked a finger to his chest to emphasize her point. Harry just glared at her silently. It made Hermione angry that he would rather shut down and push everyone away instead of opening up and letting his friends help him. Once again, Harry Potter had the weight of the world on his shoulders and was stubbornly refusing help. After all that she and Ron had done for him, after all the times that they had proven to him that they could and would help him handle everything, he still resisted their offers. It had to stop. She wouldn't let him do this by himself. Harry Potter was no titan, he was no Atlas.

"You haven't been 'fine' for a long time now!" Hermione yelled, on the verge of ripping her own hair, frustrated and desperate for him to open. "I see you! Don't you get it?" Her voice broke, shrill against the calm night. Harry winced and looked away from her as if she was something shameful. It made her angrier. She took a steadying breath in and let it out slowly. "I watch and I see and I know that you aren't alright." Her voice was soft but there was an edge to it. "None of us are blind, Harry, and we care for you. Why can't you see that? We _love_ you! That's why we're here, sheltering you, protecting you, dying for–"

"Me! They're dying all because of me!" Harry roared, finally infuriated, finally opening up. Hermione hadn't realized that it would be so terrifying and as brave as she was she shrank back, knowing she had crossed a line. "It's my fault that these people have died, that my parents and Sirius have died! And Dumbledore-" his voice broke and he couldn't continue. He yanked his hand through his hair in frustration.

"It is not!" Hermione bellowed just as loudly as Harry had been. "They died _for _you, not because of you! They died because they love you, because they want you to survive, because you're the only hope for defeating Voldemort!"

"I never asked them to do that! I never wanted them to die!" his tone was desperate to believe his words. He sank to his knees and buried his face in the palms of his hands. His shoulders shook with silent sobs; even now he didn't want Hermione to see him cry. Hermione let him cry for a long moment. Her heart broke for breaking him down like this, but it had to be done. If he felt guilt for everything that Voldemort did, he would never defeat the cold bastard. It would slow them down as they searched for the horcruxes. It would consume him entirely and Hermione couldn't let that happen to him.

Slowly, as if not to frighten a grazing doe, Hermione approached the crying Harry. She kneeled before him on both knees and sat on the back of her heels. Reaching out a dainty hand, she stroked the back of Harry's hand. He didn't respond and so she reached out her other hand, cupping his strong hands and hidden face with her palms.

"Harry, look at me," Hermione's voice was so soft and forceful that Harry looked up, unable to disobey the authority in her voice. Their eyes locked and Harry saw tears pooling in Hermione's warm chocolate eyes. He tried to look away but she held his chin in place, forcing him to look at her.

"Your family loves you," she said in a harsh voice. "The Weasley's would do anything for you. Remus and Tonks too, Hagrid, Kingsley; they all love you, Harry," She glared at him, daring him to contradict her. She let go of his face and looked away from him. Her eyes scanned the forest for a moment, as her mind became lost in her thoughts. Harry continued to stare at her, entranced and unable to look away.

"I love you, Harry." She whispered. She turned to catch his eyes with hers again. "That's why I'm here. You're my best friend and I can't see you like this anymore. What Voldemort chooses to do is not your fault." Harry opened his mouth to protest but Hermione glared at him and shook her head. "It is not. He made his choices long before you were even born and just because you're his target doesn't mean that the things he does to get to you are your fault. This guilt has to stop, Harry. It's not healthy and you can't let him get to you this way. This is what he _wants_. He wants you alone. He wants you to isolate yourself. He wants to face you without any love or courage to keep you going."

Harry growled in frustration and looked away from her.

"I'm not trying to isolate myself, Hermione. I'm not trying to. I'm just…" he took a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing. "I'm just trying to protect you all. I love you too and I don't want see anyone else get hurt on my behalf."

"I know, Harry, I know," Hermione opened her arms and Harry sunk his head down to her chest. His cheek was cool against the skin that her scoop-neck t-shirt exposed and the top of his ear was pressed uncomfortably against her collar bone, but Hermione wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. She could feel his tears as they traveled down his cheeks and into her shirt and her legs began to cramp from her position but she ignored it all. All that mattered was that she held him.

**That brutal youth, exhumed and removed  
>Entombed in a box that's cached 'cross your room<br>It slows our momentum each time  
>I'm reminded it's there<strong>

Once Harry calmed down, Hermione slowly let him go, her delicate hands squeezing his shoulders reassuringly before breaking contact. Harry smiled weakly at Hermione and reached for one of her hands. His hand was surprisingly soft, his creamy complexion pale against her slight tan of summer. Hermione smiled as she turned their hands over and over, examining each angle of their interlocked fingers. She liked the clash of his skin against hers, the way his skin ran pale across his knuckles and met her smooth, slightly darker color in a distinct line. She liked the way his palm was warm against her own, their palms barely touching, reassuring her with a small pressure every once in a while. She loved the way his thumb aimlessly and unconsciously dragged at her skin, pacing along the side of her tiny hand. It was comforting and effortless, much like their friendship. They didn't have to try.

"I'm sorry," he said gently, looking out into the darkened woods surrounding them.

"There's no need to be," Hermione replied, eyes still examining their entwined hands.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?" She answered absentmindedly as she reached up to touch the back of his hand with her free one.

"Hermione look at me."

She forced her eyes away from their hands to look into his shining emerald eyes, both hands still cupped around his large one. She couldn't look away and found that she didn't want to, even if she could. She liked the way his eyes shined brightly and seemed to glow like a smoldering ember. She liked the way he looked at her and had a smile reserved just for her. She never knew the exact moment she had come to like everything about Harry, but she had. It came so easily to her, like breathing or reading. But the moment she knew that she loved him was the most memorable moment of her life before this.

She had been terrified the night Dumbledore died. She remembered Harry running off after the fleeing Snape and Malfoy. The anger she had seen in his eyes, the heartbreak she had seen there made her want to drop everything and comfort him. But he had moved too quickly down the hall and through the foray, never giving her the chance to run after him. It was after he returned, bloodied and battered from his fight with Snape, that Hermione realized that she loved Harry Potter. The crippling relief she felt when seeing him safe, the need to hold him in her arms and kiss his forehead, and the nagging sensation that she should be telling him off for scaring her like that, made her realize that she had loved Harry as more than just normal friends. She ran to him and flung her arms around him. She held him for a long time, reveling in the warmth of his body and sheer aliveness that ran though his entire being. It was then that Hermione knew she loved Harry. It had changed just as effortlessly as their ease into friendship had and Hermione knew it came just as naturally to her. Telling Hermione Granger not to love Harry Potter was like telling water not to be wet.

Still she could never tell him that. She couldn't tell anybody that. He loved Ginny and Hermione could be happy with Ron. She loved Harry too much to not want him to be happy even if that meant he wanted to be with someone else. She loved Ron enough to give him the chance she knew he wanted. There was no earthly reason she couldn't be as happy with him as with any other man. He had been a good friend; he was handsome, and funny. She wanted Ron to be happy too. She couldn't bear to bring all that crashing down by sharing her feelings for Harry. Hermione could torture herself with "what-ifs" and "but-I-wants" but she'd rather be happy with knowing everyone else was happy. **  
><strong>

"Thank you," The two words brought Hermione crashing back into the present. Harry gently brought up one of his hands to caress her cheek. His thumb ran across the smooth expanse of skin and Hermione closed her eyes, enjoying his touch. A part of her knew she could live like this forever, in this little clearing, under the stars, with Harry and the wind as her only company. It was the very small, scared, selfish, and irresponsible part of her, the part of her that she usually ignored. But tonight it spoke louder than ever in her mind, begging her to stay there, to savor these feelings, and hide forever in ignorant bliss. Ignoring the voice, Hermione smiled and loosened her grip on his hand.

"Anytime, Harry, anytime at all," she whispered, her words crossing the small space between them to reach his ears. She turned her face into his hand and gently kissed his palm. "I'm yours when you need me," she said as she began to pull her face away from his caress. But he simply moved his hand deftly behind her neck and pulled her face closer to his. Her breath hitched in her throat and she hardly dared to breathe. She had never been so alarmingly close to his lips and his earthy scent of rain and new parchment threatened to overwhelm her completely.

"Hermione?" his voice was breathy and deep, barely moving his lips to form her name.

"Hmm?" Her eyes were drooping as if she was struggling against a dreamless sleep potion.

"I need you." And his lips were on hers, soft and warm yet harsh in their urgency to show just how much he needed her. She couldn't breathe or make sense of the world. All that she could understand was their lips, locked in a sweet embrace, a stolen refuge, there in the small clearing.

**Your anxious tongue spills cautious words  
>Yeah, it's gotten so used to being misunderstood<br>You do your best to control it  
>Remind yourself that you care...<strong>

"Hermione, Hermione, I can't." His words hit her in the chest and stole the breath from her lungs. They were tangled together on the soft grass, lips swollen and red from their stolen kisses. And then as quickly as his lips were on hers, they were gone and he was sitting next to her, running his hands through his already wild locks. His eyes were frantic and he was muttering to himself under his breath. Hermione, who had hardly known how to react, just sat and folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself. The selfish part of her was screaming for a renewal of their lips' broken connection. The sensible part of her brain had known it would happen, just as he had withdrawn from Ginny. Why would she be any different? Why would he treat her any differently? _Because I am different_, said a newer place of thought.

"It doesn't make a difference you know," she told him, once she had caught her breath and her thoughts were in order. He looked up in question and she gave him a rueful smile. "In his eyes, I'm a marked woman anyway. Mudblood vermin and the best friend of his enemy."

Harry stared at her for a long moment, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He could see the determination in Hermione's eyes, the calculating stare as the gears in her head turned. He could see that she wouldn't let the issue go, she wouldn't see thing his way without a fight. But he had to make her see that getting involved would be dangerous, that he shouldn't have kissed her or even been friends with her in the first place. It was foolish of him to let anyone close, especially after hearing the prophecy. He should have cut ties with everyone right then and there. His time was limited and to get attached was a greater chance to lose someone you cared about. He wouldn't lose Hermione. He couldn't bare it, his sanity couldn't bare it. He had to make her see reason and sense. He had to make her see just as he had with Ginny.

"Hermione…" he started but she shook her head and glared at him.

"You're so _noble_, Harry. Always thinking you're saving someone by separating yourself from them. He's not exactly going to show me mercy either way. I'm not like Ginny who would at least have a shot at making it if we don't kill him. I'd be hunted down like a—a _dog_ whether I'm with you or not." She wiped the embarrassed tears away, irritated at their existence. "Yet you think that you're saving me from him, that by shutting me out you're giving me a chance. Well you're _not_. And goddamn it, I'm so tired of being denied what I want because of it. I love you, Harry. I _love_ you and you're too busy being _noble_ to—."

It had been all he needed to hear. His lips were crashing down on hers again, fiercer and more urgent than before. For once he didn't care if it was dangerous. He didn't care about Voldemort, or Horcruxes, or Dumbledore and his mysteries. He had Hermione, at least in that moment, he had her. And it was true he cared too much about her to consciously put her in any danger, but she was right about that too. She wasn't in anymore danger now than she would be down the line. Voldemort would come after her whether she kissed Harry or not, whether she loved him or not. She wouldn't be spared if Voldermort was left to take over the Wizarding World.

She was also right about being different from Ginny. Ginny was fun and warm and everything Harry had needed at the time, but she wasn't what he needed now. She couldn't understand what he was going through at that moment, not the way Hermione could. Ginny would never understand the weight he held the way Hermione could. She would never understand his terror the way Hermione could. The truth was he was terrified of what he and his two best friends were about to do and he could feel it in the pair of them. They were scared of the future too. Hermione understood how afraid he was of failing where as Ginny never could. A shiver ran down his spine as he traced Hermione's sides with his fingers. She tangled her hands in his hair and he placed his hands on her hips, pulling her onto his lap.

He liked Hermione this way, close, with her fingers wrapped in his hair and her lips swollen against his. She looked so wild with her cheeks flushed pink, her eyes closed. He laid down dragging her with him. She shifted and straddled him, deepening their kisses before coming up briefly to breathe. Harry slipped his hand behind her neck and pulled her to him, eager for more. She moaned then, deep and breathy, letting his tongue brush against hers in the most delicious way. Hermione pressed her hips against him, sending a deep thrum through her nerves and his. It was soft, gentle, and at the same time so carnal that it shut all logical thought away. She couldn't think and what was more, she didn't want to think. She just wanted to feel. She wanted to feel his lips on her lips, his body against her body, his skin on her skin. She wanted to feel alive with him. She wanted to feel safe. And just for a moment, this one stolen moment, Hermione did feel safe. Nothing could touch them, not worry, or fear, or war or Voldemort. And she was happy.

She grinned against his lips, biting playfully at his bottom lip, making his breath hitch sharply. Harry growled in response, flipping them over so that he was positioned above her. And suddenly the heaviness melted away. For the first time in a long time, Harry was having fun. He grinned, a predatory gleam in his eye and Hermione knew she was in for trouble. Harry darted down and Hermione gasped as he caught the bottom of her earlobe between his teeth. He applied the tiniest of pressure and made the tiniest of sighs escape from Hermione's lips. He nibbled on her ear, slowly moving up the entire length of her ear and then back down. Hermione bit her lip as his lips left her ear and moved down to the exposed skin of her neck. She arched, his kisses burning through her skin, her breasts pressed tightly against his chest, her hands cradling his head against her neck.

He groaned as she arched her back. She was driving him mad, making his blood boil and his groin ache for her. His pants tightened around his hips. He bit her neck in an attempt to get revenge. He hoped he was making her just as crazy as she was making him. And who could blame him? Hermione was beautiful. She was kind and caring and brave and smart. She was damned sexy, he thought, as his hand grabbed her hip and pushed it into the ground. She moaned and he grinded into her, the tightness in his jeans now apparent to her. She spread her legs further so that he was situated between them more comfortably. He grinded against her again, hand still clutched on her hip, and she hissed in pleasure as he made contact with her center. The friction was enough to send a shock straight to her core. She lifted her hips, eager to renew contact and unwilling to wait for him to do so. It was Harry's turn to gasp in surprise. Her impatience was a pleasant surprise and Harry reveled in this new and impatient version of his best friend.

Her fingers found the edge of his shirt and lifted it to expose his lower back. Her hands clenched around his waist and her nails raked his skin as they kissed again. Hermione was losing herself in him and very close to losing all sense and reason. And oh, how she dearly wanted to lose herself in Harry , but she knew that she couldn't, not here or now. She was being selfish now, and she had to stop before she lost control, before they both did. She broke the kiss and relaxed her body underneath his. They were both gasping for breath and Harry rolled to lie next to her. He curled his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him, her cheek resting on his rising and falling chest, his cheek resting in her golden brown locks. Again, the overwhelming desire to stay in the clearing forever engulfed them both.

**"Oh, never, not ever again!"  
>Is what you swore the last time this happened<br>"Never, not ever again!"  
>Are you gonna settle for those bastards?<br>"Never not ever again!"  
>Is what you swore...<br>**

They lay there for a few moments in a comfortable silence, neither willing to move or speak. It was pleasant and peaceful, though their minds were anything but peaceful. Harry had too many emotions swirling within him to make much sense of the night's events and Hermione was too cautious to push whatever this was any further. The truth was they were both afraid of the morning and what came after that. It had been a miracle that Harry agreed to stay at the burrow long enough to attend Bill and Fleur's wedding. He had wanted to set out immediately after Dumbledore's funeral but now that the moment was almost there, dangling over the trio's heads like a guillotine ready to fall, Harry wanted nothing more than to stay at the Burrow until the whole thing blew over. Of course, he knew it would never just blow over and work itself out. Harry was prophesized to battle Voldemort, he was _destined_ for this journey, though he didn't know the outcome. He had to search for the horcruxes whether he wanted to or not. The world was counting on him, the people he loved were counting on him to save and protect them. Anyone he held dear would die if he didn't do something to stop the tyrant that had plagued him his entire life.

Now there was this complication, his confused feelings for Hermione. What had started as a tight bond of friendship was being warped into something tangled and confusing by the war surrounding them. He wasn't sure if it was true emotion or just the desperation of their unstable future that had made him kiss Hermione and he had no idea what made her kiss him back. Was she just as confused as he was? Had she meant that she really loved him, romantically? Or had she just meant as friends? Did she just not want to reject him? Had she simply let Harry vent without feeling any other attachment but friendship? Was she just as desperate to escape her own mind as he was? She hadn't kissed him back out of pity, did she? Harry didn't think he could stomach that one. Out of desperation he could understand, but out of pity he couldn't handle. He didn't want her pity, not when he admired her so much and valued her opinion. He couldn't take it if she pitied him.

"What are you thinking about Harry?" Hermione lifted her head to rest her chin on his chest so that she could see him better. Her right arm was draped over him, resting comfortably on his hip as if this was something they were used to doing. It felt foreign but at the same time safe, as if this is how they belonged. Harry looked at her and their eyes met. Suddenly, he felt reassured. Whatever these confusing feelings were, Hermione certainly didn't pity him. She was his friend and maybe something more, but she was never one to pity people, especially not him. As Harry thought this over Hermione was still waiting expectantly for an answer. When she didn't get one after a few moments she squeezed his side gently where she knew he was ticklish. He jumped and gave a small yelp as she laughed. It was a tinkling laugh, playful and beautiful and easy. Harry smiled at the sound and then glared at her in mock annoyance.

"What was that for?"

"I'm still waiting for an answer and I don't like to be kept waiting," she replied, sticking her tongue out for a moment. "What were you thinking about?" Harry paused for a moment, unsure if the truth would ruin the moment or not, but he had never lied to Hermione before so why should he start now?

"Well, what happens now?" he asked gently. The smile melted from Hermione's face and Harry wanted to kick himself for becoming so serious again. Couldn't he just enjoy the moment without worrying about the future? But that was impossible for him. He would never be able to rest easy until he confronted Voldemort for the last time, until everything was finally resolved and he had either beaten Voldemort or died trying. And Hermione seemed to understand because she reached for his hand and held it at his hip, squeezing gently.

"I don't know, Harry," she whispered. "We go back to the burrow, witness Bill and Phlegm's wedding, enjoy whatever time we can with our family, and then we go from there. What other choice do we have?"

"We can just stay here forever," Harry suggested with a weak smile. Hermione smiled back at him and shook her head.

"As much as I would love that, you know we can't. We have a world to save, Mr. Potter." And with that she stood up, holding out her hand to help him up. He stood too, knowing that it was time to get some rest at the burrow before tomorrow. They stood close and Harry had to resist the urge to kiss her again. Her hair, he realized, is what smelled like sweet apples and he took a deep breath before stepping back. When he had broken things off with Ginny, he promised he would never let anyone close again, never let himself fall for someone until Voldemort was gone, but he had just broken that promise. He had already let Hermione too close and now things were really muddled. What would become of them and of their friendship? And was he really willing to settle into loneliness because of Voldemort and his bastard death eaters? His head was swimming with more questions now than it had been when they first came to the clearing. But somehow with Hermione's hand in his, leading the way back to the burrow, it didn't seem as overwhelming as before.

They reached the burrow and Hermione let go of his hand at the door. The air changed as she let go and it seemed much colder than it was before. She tried to smile but she couldn't make her muscles move the right way and it turned out to be more of a grimace. They had said and felt a lot in the clearing, but outside of that place there was so much uncertainty that she was feeling overwhelmed. She had revealed, at least in part, how she felt about Harry and now they were back in reality where he had Ginny and she had Ron, and they all had a part to play in this looming war. She hardly could look at him for fear of letting it all go. The clearing had been safe, out in the open it was not. Still, Hermione gathered enough courage to kiss Harry on the cheek and then disappear inside the house without another word.

Harry stood at the door for a few more moments, letting Hermione sneak safely into bed without having to face him again. His hand on the door, he absorbed everything the day had to offer him and let his thoughts flow freely. Scrimgeour, Molly, Ginny, Ron, Voldemort all became a swirling mass as he struggled not to be overwhelmed again. Only Hermione stood out clearly, he face flushed pink, her lips smiling, her hair wild, as it had been in the clearing. And then he thought of everything Hermione had said and he felt better. Though, his parents were gone, he still had family that loved him and cared for him. He had people that supported him through everything and she was one of them. He belonged somewhere and he had people to fight for and a reason to live. If he kept pushing everyone away and was left alone to face Voldemort he wouldn't have any reason to fight. Finally, Harry opened the door and stepped inside, Hermione's words still in ringing inside his head.

**So hey, sad savior  
>You don't have to pretend to be an orphan<br>You're not an orphan anymore**


End file.
